


On Your Knees

by epeolatry



Series: Revolutions in My Mind (Revolutions in Your Bed) [4]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Blow Jobs, Developing Relationship, Dom/sub, Face Slapping, Face-Fucking, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Masturbation, Sexual Experimentation, Submission
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-09
Updated: 2013-09-09
Packaged: 2017-12-26 03:42:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/961177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/epeolatry/pseuds/epeolatry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>More D/s experimentation with Enjolras & Grantaire!</p>
            </blockquote>





	On Your Knees

“I will literally do anything you want. And I mean literally in its literal sense, _literally_ anything.”

 

They were standing in the Musain after a meeting, Enjolras idly stirring sugar into his fourth coffee and Grantaire watching him with lustful eyes after the suggestion he stay the night at the student’s house for some further negotiation of their rapidly sexualising relationship and perhaps some _experimentation_.

 

Enjolras smiled wryly and joked, “Lick my boots?”

 

Grantaire was on his knees before the shocked law student even had time to register the movement.

 

“ _Anything_ ,” he breathed huskily against Enjolras’ thigh as people (their friends, _dear god_ ) turned to stare. Enjolras quickly hoisted Grantaire up by his shoulders, his cheeks reddening as Grantaire quirked a challenging eyebrow.

 

“We’re in public Grantaire, you can’t just do things like that!” hissed Enjolras, his fingers biting sharply into Grantaire’s shoulder as he admonished him.

 

“Then I guess al fresco fucking is off the table?”

 

“Yes! No… Jesus, Grantaire, you can’t just spring stuff like that on me!”

 

The mischievous twinkle disappeared from Grantaire’s green eyes like a snuffed out candle and his smile fell as he muttered, “Shit… I’m sorry. I didn’t think, I just- ”

 

“It’s fine,” said Enjolras firmly, “But can we… Can we just go somewhere a little more private to discuss this?”

 

“Shit. Yeah, of course. My place? Nothing funny, it’s just closest and Éponine is out visiting Gav all day, so we’d be alone.”

 

Enjolras nodded and took Grantaire’s hand in his own, as much to reassure himself as his suddenly wary boyfriend. He hated being treated like he was fragile by the more experienced Grantaire, and he was determined to normalise their sexual relations, but sometimes Grantaire’s casual attitude towards sexuality jarred him when it presented itself unexpectedly. It was something he was working on…

 

“Are you aroused by the thought of having sex in public?” asked Enjolras with genuine curiosity as soon as Grantaire’s battered front door closed behind them.

 

“Yes. Completely,” affirmed Grantaire without hesitation.

 

“Hmm, interesting.”

 

“That’s your reaction? _Hmm, interesting_? This is not a science project, Enjolras!”

 

“But it _is_ interesting, it shows an obvious tendency toward exhibitionism, possibly coupled with psychological humiliation, and likely incorporates a predilection for corporal punishment. Am I right?”

 

Grantaire groaned, “You’re making a spreadsheet of this in your head aren’t you?”

 

“What about licking my boots?” Enjolras continued blithely, “Were you serious about that, or were you just showing off?”

 

“I am more than ready to demonstrate my willingness to lick your boots, and get off on it too.”

 

“No, thank you. A verbal assurance will be adequate for now. Boot worship, check. What else?”

 

“Are you actually asking me to list all of my kinks? Because I’ll warn you now, I may have to detain you for the rest of the afternoon, probably into the evening. In fact, I may keep you up all night.”

 

Enjolras smiled wryly, “Just stick to the top ten.”

 

Enjolras had to admit that despite all of his lofty speeches, his steadfast refusal of Grantaire’s request to call him ‘master’ during their more experimental moments, and his very sincere and deeply held belief that all men were born equal and deserved equal rights, he much preferred the idea of Grantaire servicing him than the other way around. For one there was less margin for error than there was in, say, the act of giving Grantaire a blow job, an idea he found to be simultaneously thrilling and terrifying.

 

No, he was much better at (and felt safer in) giving instruction than pleasure, and though it was selfish, it was base, it was abhorrent, and it was terrible, god forgive him it was Enjolras’ major kink. And that was just one of the many complementary aspects of his relationship with Grantaire; bless the artist, it was his kink as well.

 

Grantaire licked his lips nervously and said, “You already know that I like it when you get bossy.”

 

Enjolras replied with an imperious, “ _Obviously_ ,” and a private thrill ran up the student’s spine.

 

“Well I think we could take it further… A lot further,” and now Grantaire’s eyes were downcast in a carefully studied expression of abashedness that shot a bolt of heat right into Enjolras’ gut.

 

But Enjolras indulged himself, continuing to feign indifference as he asked, “Public humiliation? Boot worship? How much further can we possibly take it?”

 

“Oh god, Enjolras, you really have no idea do you?” asked Grantaire hoarsely, his eyes still trained on the floor, “I would worship you entirely… I mean, I already do, but I would… The things I would let you do to me, you have no idea.”

 

“So tell me,” goaded Enjolras, his own voice deepening with want as Grantaire continued to stare at the ground, “If you want this, if you want me to enter into a BDSM-type relationship, you’re going to have to tell me exactly what you need,” Grantaire shivered visibly, his eyes still downcast, and Enjolras continued without relenting, “Or better yet, get on your knees and beg me for it. Tell me your dirtiest fantasies and beg me to make them come true.”

 

Grantaire whimpered as his knees hit the ground hard, seeming to have fallen involuntarily rather than lowering himself down to Enjolras’ feet.

 

“Anything,” he murmured quietly, his voice already sounding broken and small, “Anything you want, just make me yours. I want you to control me, to own me, take away all my choices and just tell me what I have to do to please you. Let me serve you. I want you to… to use me. Hurt me, degrade me, make me cry, make me bleed, cover me in bruises, or, or your come, mark me, do whatever you want to me, I don’t care. I want whatever you want. I want to be yours.”

 

Enjolras’ mouth went very dry as Grantaire supplicated on his knees, the beginning of an erection tenting his loose jeans as he begged Enjolras to dominate him so entirely.

 

“I- I can do that,” agreed Enjolras hoarsely, his own rising arousal clouding his mind and paralysing his tongue, “I’d be honoured to do that, to have you as mine, to have you and use you and keep you safe, and hurt you too if that’s what you need. But I want you to know that I never truly want to injure you. I’ll hurt you if you want to be hurt – and god I hate myself for it, but I _want_ to hurt you – but not badly, never a bad kind of hurt. Will you let me do that?”

 

Grantaire’s eyes were glazed over as he looked up at Enjolras, his face slack as he lost himself in the subspace at Enjolras’ feet, “Yes, sir. Please.”

 

“But you have to let me know if I ever go too far, agreed? I respect you. I want to make you mine, but I’ll only do it if it’s fully consensual, if it’s agreed to be only within a sexual context, and as long as you are fully aware that I respect you as an autonomous human being with equal worth and rights to self-determination as I have. We’re going to have a safe word, and lots of discussion, and pre-negotiation, and there will be aftercare and, and discussions, and… God you’re beautiful on your knees.”

 

Grantaire wriggled gladly under Enjolras’ appraising look, his own green eyes still downcast as a small, bashful smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

 

“Take off your shirt.”

 

Grantaire complied without pause, lost entirely to Enjolras’ will; the thought sent another bolt of hot arousal pitching into the student’s stomach and his cock began to fill with anticipation.

 

Enjolras circled once around his half-naked boyfriend, idly dragging his fingertips across the tattooed whorls of ink that covered Grantaire’s bared chest and shoulders. He leaned down to pinch a nipple, twisting harshly, and Grantaire gasped. Enjolras released the nipple and backed off slightly, gauging Grantaire’s reaction to the pain, but when the artist whimpered, “More… _please_ ,” Enjolras knew he had a green light.

 

“More what? I’ve hardly even touched you yet, you needy slut, and you’re already begging me for more. You need to learn some self control.”

 

Enjolras tilted Grantaire’s chin up, forcing their eyes to meet, and he smiled cruelly as he said, “Touch yourself.”

 

Grantaire’s hands began to fiddle with the catch on his jeans but Enjolras barked, “Did I tell you to undress? No. I’m trying to teach you self-control, so control yourself. Touch yourself through your jeans, play with your nipples for me. Do what you like to do when you’re getting yourself off. But know that if you come before I give you permission to you’ll be punished.”

 

Grantaire shivered and his eyes slid closed as his hands moved up to his nipples, twisting them like Enjolras had and evidently hurting himself from the hiss of breath he drew in. Then one hand slid down to palm at his crotch through his jeans, the front of which was already bulging obviously. He moaned quietly then his eyes flew open and he looked up at Enjolras guiltily.

 

“You can make as much noise as you want,” nodded Enjolras, his own eyes hooded with lust as he too reached down to stroke himself through his trousers.

 

Grantaire moaned gratefully and stroked himself harder, the frustration of his jeans just adding to the friction around his cock. He watched Enjolras in open-mouthed wonder as the student stroked himself lazily, with less desperation than Grantaire but no less intent.

 

“Take your pants off,” Enjolras directed after a moment, “See if you can stop yourself from coming like that.”

 

Grantaire did as he was told, biting off a loud moan as his hand closed around his bared cock and smeared precome down the shaft, lubricating his strokes as he continued to jerk himself off under Enjolras’ hungry gaze.

 

“Please,” whimpered Grantaire softly, his voice sounding as if it came from far away, “ _Please_.”

 

Enjolras looked at him, “Please what? Please let you come? Please let you touch me? Use your words Grantaire or I’ve no idea what you want.”

 

“Don’t want to come yet,” Grantaire shook his head like a child, his voice small, “Please… Hurt me.”

 

The words went straight to Enjolras’ cock and made him ache with sudden need for the beautiful boy on his knees before him. He didn’t have anything with him, wasn’t even wearing a belt that he could fashion into a counterfeit whip, and they hadn’t yet discussed if that was the kind of hurt Grantaire was asking for anyway, _fuck_ , they hadn’t discussed _anything_ yet but here they were, Grantaire begging to be hurt… So Enjolras improvised, starting off gently. Long, pale fingers tangled themselves in Grantaire’s dark curls, yanking his head up sharply to meet Enjolras’ eyes again.

 

“Is this what you want, slut?”

 

“Yes, please sir,” whimpered Grantaire, his flushed, hard cock twitching against his stomach as he automatically dropped it to clasp his hands behind his back again.

 

The unconscious submission was too much, and before Enjolras had time to think, time to stop himself, he slapped Grantaire across the face with an open palm. For a second he froze, not even daring to breathe because _fuck fuck fuck_ they hadn’t had a proper discussion about this, they were just diving in head first, and what if something went wrong? What if Grantaire didn’t want to be hurt like that? What if- ?

 

Grantaire whined loudly, one of Enjolras’ hands still clutched in his hair and the print of the other blooming across his cheek, “Again. _Harder_ ,” he groaned as his cock leaked conspicuously against his abdomen.

 

Enjolras obliged, his own arousal painfully hard in his trousers as he slapped Grantaire twice more, leaving his cheeks gratifyingly red and making the artist whimper so deliciously that Enjolras couldn’t hold himself back any longer. He unzipped his fly and pulled his cock out, using the hand still in Grantaire’s hair to drag the other boy within an inch of his leaking cockhead.

 

“Do you want this?” he whispered huskily, “If you want it you’re going to have to ask nicely.”

 

“ _Please_ ,” whimpered Grantaire immediately, no hesitation as he begged desperately to be allowed to take Enjolras in his mouth, “Please sir, let me suck you off. I’ll be so good, I promise, please, _please!_ ”

 

Enjolras didn’t deign to answer, instead he simply pulled Grantaire forward by his hair and pushed himself past those all too willing lips and into the eager wetness of the artist’s mouth. _Fuck_. It was hot and tight and delicious, and Grantaire hadn’t been lying when he said he’d make it good, Grantaire never lied to Enjolras, especially not about sex and by every god that ever was and ever would be this was _good_. More than good. This was amazing, and a tiny, guilt-ridden part of Enjolras’ mind knew that the reason it was so amazing was at least partly attributable to the red handprints across Grantaire’s face, the pull of Enjolras’ hand in those unruly curls, and the deliberateness with which Grantaire had stopped touching himself and now held his hands crossed in the small of his back.

 

“ _God yes_ ,” hissed out Enjolras as Grantaire tongued at his head, lapping up the precome with grateful reverence in his eyes, “Fucking slut, look how badly you want this, you want it even more than you want to get yourself off. You’re so good, so obedient, so filthy, _I love it_.”

 

Using his grip on Grantaire’s hair he dragged the artist a little further down his shaft then back up again, forcing him to bob up and down without the use of his hands to steady himself. Grantaire was moaning gladly, high-pitched little whimpers occasionally spilling from his stretched lips when Enjolras tugged particularly hard, but his untouched cock still twitched between his legs and he seemed happy with the arrangement so Enjolras let himself go a little more.

 

The student’s hips canted tentatively into Grantaire’s mouth as his hand stilled the artist. Once Grantaire realised what Enjolras wanted he made a little hum of acquiesce and Enjolras felt his mouth relax. Suppressing a shudder at the sheer, unquestioning submission of his boyfriend, Enjolras thrust shallowly into Grantaire’s mouth, using both hands to hold him in place now as his hips rocked in and out.

 

As Enjolras thrust a little more deeply than before Grantaire made a convulsive gagging noise, and when Enjolras looked down he saw green eyes swimming with tears. Immediately he pulled out, assuming he had hurt Grantaire in some way, but the artist lunged after him, tears spilling from his eyes as his hands flew out to clutch desperately at Enjolras’ thighs.

 

“Grantaire, are you- ”

 

“Don’t make me stop!” sobbed Grantaire, looking imploring up at Enjolras even as his tears dripped wetly onto the student’s cock, “Please, I’m sorry, I won’t choke again I promise, just don’t make me stop!”

 

Enjolras found himself paralysed by wonderment; Grantaire sobbing before him, on his knees, begging - literally _begging_ \- to have his mouth fucked… It was all Enjolras had never known he’d wanted.

 

“You’re sure you want me to keep going?” Enjolras asked firmly, needing clarity; he had no wish to do this if Grantaire wasn’t willing, no matter how turned on he was by the artist’s strangled moans of longing.

 

“Yes, _please_ sir.”

 

“Alright then, open up.”

 

Grantaire made the most wonderful noise of contentment as Enjolras pushed back into his mouth that the student wondered how he had ever lived before this moment. He continued thrusting in and out, holding Grantaire’s head in place by his hair, though his grip was now possibly a little more careful than before as unbidden tears continued to overspill Grantaire’s eyes as he submitted to Enjolras.

 

“Fuck, ‘Aire, fuck! You actually love this don’t you?” groaned Enjolras, lost in the pleasure of control, “Jesus fucking Christ, I’m gonna- “ Enjolras came hard into Grantaire’s mouth, his orgasm taking him by surprise, ignited as much by his control over Grantaire as by the sensations of the mouth wrapped around him.

 

“Fuck,” he muttered as he came down shakily, pulling out of Grantaire’s mouth gently and drawing an adorably disappointed whine from the artist as he did so. He noted that all traces of his orgasm had been dutifully swallowed and wondered briefly how Grantaire would have reacted if he’d pulled out and spent across his face… But that was another ending for another time.

 

Grantaire was still kneeling, panting, his cock still rock hard and dribbling precome as Enjolras lowered himself to the floor and nodded at Grantaire, “Come for me, my good boy.”

 

Grantaire gladly wrapped a hand around himself and began tugging quickly, his movements hurried and sloppy, as erratic as his breathing. After a moment he whispered, “ _Please_.”

 

And Enjolras understood.

 

Enjolras slapped him hard once more across the face, growling, “You come for me right now, or you won’t come at all!”

 

And Grantaire did.

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, I promise there will actually be a plot to this, it's coming, I just have way too much fun writing D/s smut for these two! STORY and EMOTION to follow in upcoming chapters!


End file.
